Sweets
by Rhapsody93
Summary: Sherlock is out of nicotine patches and his mood was, well you can probably imagine. John refuses to buy him patches because he was just out shopping. Instead he insists that Sherlock eats something and one thing leads to another and ends in a game, which both are far too willing to play. Johnlock
1. A replacement for the nicotine patches

please forgive me any mistakes, english isn't my first language, but feel nevertheless free to point them out XD

enjoy!

...

The case Sherlock was working on was far from being solved. Although he should have enough information to do so there was no progress. Sherlock couldn't think of the right conclusion that fitted all the facts. All possibilities he thought of left something that didn't fit the facts. So Sherlock's mood wasn't the best and John had gone out to buy something sweet to eat.

Sherlock noticed that he was out of nicotine patches, which was pretty bad in his current state, but he was too lazy to text John about this problem. He decided that he would wait until the doctor would come back and then ask him to buy him some.

An hour had passed when he heard John coming upstairs, and he bent his head a little when the door opened so that he could look at John.

"John could you get me some nicotine patches?" he saw John's mouth twitch. Maybe he should have texted him after all, but his mobile was in his coat. It never crossed his mind to go and buy them himself.

"No Sherlock. You could have texted me" was the annoyed reply he got. It should have occurred to him that it was not likely for John to go out again just to buy Sherlock nicotine patches. Even more so because it wasn't the first time that Sherlock asked John to buy him something right after the doctor came back from shopping.

"But I need them to solve the case!"

"If you want something to think better, then eat something sweet. As a doctor I tell you that your brain needs some sugar to work properly" he said with a sight because he knew that Sherlocks logic was sometimes, well twisted.

"John, you know fair well that I don't eat while working on a case" before he could begin to tell why wouldn't eat anything John went into the kitchen, ignoring Sherlocks complaint. After a while he returned with tea and a cinnamon roll, placing both of them on the couch table.

"Here, eat" John ordered him

"I wouldn't say no to the tea, but you can have the cinnamon roll for yourself" Sometimes, well most of the time Sherlock could be really stubborn. John had observed his flat mates face carefully, a habit he had developed since he started living with Sherlock. And he could see that he actually wanted to eat the roll, but his previous statement, about eating slowing down his ability to think, wouldn't let him. Would it hurt his pride so badly if eating something would help him think better? With a sight the doctor took the cinnamon roll and put it back into the kitchen because Sherlock would clearly not eat it. He made another cup of tea for himself before settling in his armchair.

After a few minutes of silence, Sherlock starts to complain about the nicotine patches again, acting like a five-year old and the good doctor sighs, telling Sherlock to go and get it himself for what felt like the tenth time, resulting in Sherlock not speaking with his flat mate anymore and started pouting, again. John really felt like dealing with a child.

An hour passed in silence and John decided to try making Sherlock eat something again. Maybe he was less stubborn now. As he was about to head into the kitchen to fetch the cinnamon roll he caught a glance of Sherlocks expression and knew immediately that the roll would develop a life of its own if John wouldn't eat it himself. Returning to the living room he sat back down and began to eat the cinnamon roll.

Sherlock watched John eating, thinking that maybe, just maybe the good doctor wasn't so wrong and his brain would work better with some sugar. His eyes darted to John's lips before he could stop himself. Of course he wouldn't eat anything. First would it slow down his ability to think and the other point was that John definitely would not get him any nicotine patches, but most importantly; he wouldn't give John the satisfaction of being right. But he wasn't the only consulting detective in the world for nothing. He had already a solution for all of his problems and chances were good that John would even get his nicotine patches. Sherlock had to suppress a smirk at his brilliance. Well, he wasn't completely sure that this would go the way he wanted it to because sometimes John's reactions still surprised him.

Getting up from his comfortable position he went over to John stopping right in front of him. The doctor looked up from his plate, raising an eyebrow he silently asked what Sherlock wanted. When Sherlock didn't answer he just continued eating, already used to his flat mates intense staring, but John had suddenly trouble swallowing. Something was different about this stare, but he couldn't quite say what it was. Thinking a few moments longer he realized what it was. Normally Sherlock would make eye-contact, but when John looked up to Sherlock again he still didn't meet his gaze. Instead he continued to look at…his mouth? No, that was absurd. The corner of his mouth twitched at this silly thought. Knowing Sherlock it was more likely that he was so absorbed in his own thoughts that Sherlock simply forgot that he was staring at John.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock eyes snapped away from John's mouth - as well as the crumbs that were at the corner of his mouth – to meet the gaze of two hazel eyes and moved back to the doctors mouth a few seconds later. Sherlock bent down and licked over John's mouth –and the crumbs away- then began to move his lips slowly against it. He moved his hands to hold John's face in place and bend further down to deepen the kiss. John opened his mouth a bit and Sherlocks tongue darted in, eagerly exploring it. He could taste cinnamon and the sweetness of sugar. John moaned underneath him, hands tangled in his dark curls. Sherlock began to feel warmth seep through his whole body, causing his mind to forget his original plan and he began to attack John's mouth hungrily. When John started to kiss back with just as much need Sherlock didn't really care anymore if he would get his nicotine patches or not because kissing John stimulated his brain better than the patches ever could.


	2. The game is afoot

**Chapter Two**

John had been attracted to his flat mate for quite a while now. He caught himself staring at Sherlock way too often, but until now there had always been the possibility that he was simply attracted to the other man's looks. That he wouldn't like Sherlock touching him - not that he had ever really considered that this could happen, but still. What he felt now was far from dislike. It felt so good, Sherlocks mouth pressed on his, their tongues moving against each other. Another small moan escaped him and he blushed slightly in embarrassment. His hands had moved to Sherlocks dark curls, pulling slightly on them. God, what was he doing?

Without any prior warning Sherlock pulled away from John, breathing heavily and a smirk plastered on his slightly swollen lips.

"You are brilliant, John!" Sherlock exclaimed, his hands still lingering on John's face, which wore a confused expression. "You were right; my brain just needed some sugar in order to work properly again. I solved the case! I'm going to Scotland Yard to tell Lestrade!" he jumped up, obviously pretty happy with his brilliance and ran out of the flat after quickly grabbing scarf and coat, leaving a still pretty confused doctor behind. John's brain needed a bit to proceed what he had just heard. When he finally understood John looked accusingly at his cinnamon roll. The plate had somehow managed to stay safe on John's lap while they were kissing.

"That's entirely your fault." John told the confectionery and furrowed his brows. If he had just bought the bloody patches instead of the cinnamon roll, then he wouldn't have to deal with his now confirmed feelings for his flat mate. His heart was still pounding hard, swamped with all the emotions pouring down on it. There was slight anger at Sherlock for being, well, himself and not thinking how his actions could affect others. Panic and fear that he would find out John's feelings and change his attitude towards him or would he even kick him out? Would he stop being friends with him? Well, that was unlikely as Sherlock wasn't one to be bothered by such trivialities. John felt excitement from the kiss, his lips were still tingling slightly, but at the same time he was still confused as to why Sherlock had decided to kiss him. His big ego wouldn't let him eat something sweet, but there had been other possibilities then to kiss John. He sighed. Who knew what goes on in that brain anyway? He shouldn't think too much about the kiss. Sherlock probably did it to test if one could get enough sugar through saliva or something like that and act like it never happened when he got back.

After a while just sitting in the living room, John decided to go out, anything was better to just sit there, unable to stop thinking about the bloody kiss. Sighing loudly he grabbed his coat and headed out, aimlessly wandering around until he found himself in front of a supermarket, of which he knew had nicotine patches. It definitely wouldn't hurt if he bought a pack, before Sherlock tried to get his rush from anything, or anyone else. It seemed as if Sherlock always got what he wanted, like a spoiled little brat. John chuckled slightly because that was exactly what Sherlock was, a spoiled brat, throwing tantrums when he didn't get what he wanted, manipulating people in order to get what he desired anyway. John stopped dead in his tracks at this thought.

Oh no, he didn't. Sherlock wouldn't dare to pull something like that with John, would he? But one could never know with Sherlock. It wasn't impossible that Sherlock kissed him in order to manipulate John into buying him the bloody patches. Sherlock knew John and his way of thinking, most of the time, and he surely knew that John would think it was because of a bloody experiment or because Sherlock didn't want to eat anything, but knew that his brain needed sugar. Great now he was totally confused. Had Sherlock really tried to manipulate him or did he come to a wrong conclusion? Maybe it wasn't entirely for the nicotine patches, but only partly and the rest because John had been right about the sugar. John turned around and started to walk back home. Two could play that game. If Sherlock wanted nicotine patches he had to get them himself, which meant for Sherlock admitting defeat because he always, always made John buy him the things he wanted. Not this time, John determined and excited. There was a small voice in his head whispering to him that maybe, just maybe Sherlock would kiss him again. This would all be nothing more than a game to Sherlock, so he hopefully wouldn't analyze John's motives too much. A sly grin spread across his face, one didn't mess with John Watson. He invaded Afghanistan after all. He went back to the supermarket and after looking through the rows with sweets he found what he was looking for. Strawberry candies. If Sherlock would take one candy he would admit that John was right, John's victory. Or Sherlock would buy the bloody patches himself. The third option was that Sherlock would kiss him again; John blushed slightly at this thought. Either way John would be satisfied with the result. The game was afoot!

...

hope you enjoyed it! please forgive me any grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language, but please feel free to point them out to me so I can correct them XD


	3. A game willing to play

**Chapter Three**

A week passed without one of them talking about what happened. Sherlock was surprised that John wanted him to admit defeat. He had expected that John would want to talk about their kiss. That he would be mat at Sherlock for kissing him. That he would just buy him the patches, but not that John would strike back. Sherlock had of course noticed right away what John wanted to do, but he didn't mind, no. Quite the opposite was the case.

Truth was, Sherlock didn't want the patches anymore; he wanted to kiss his good doctor again. It had felt so good. It had felt like nothing he had felt before. He had kissed a few people, back in his college days, but he had always felt disgusted by their saliva mingling with his own.

John was different, his exception. Sherlock had found himself touching John whenever he could without being too obvious. John had been more observant than he usually was, catching Sherlock staring at him out of the corner of his eyes. He would raise a questioning eyebrow at this odd behavior of Sherlock because he normally would stare head on at John. Not caring, if he would be noticed or not.

Sherlock had caught John staring too. Of course he had. Then John would quickly look away, as if embarrassed to be caught by Sherlock. The consulting detective guessed – no, he knew – it was because he still felt awkward and weird around Sherlock after their kiss and tried to act as normal as possible, but couldn't help but stare at his flat mate. Just like Sherlock.

In this past week, whenever Sherlock was on a case, John would almost constantly suck candies and leave the packaging on the table in their living room. The message had been clear to Sherlock. John would not buy him any nicotine patches, unless he admitted defeat. Or Sherlock could just take a candy and admit his defeat through that.

How naïve of John, Sherlock thought to himself as a smile crept on his face. He couldn't be thinking that Sherlock would just admit defeat like that. This was a game he was willing to play. The fun had just begun, he would make John squirm in defeat (pun intended) and Sherlock knew exactly how he was going to do that. All he had to do was to wait for a case to appear, so that John would get his candy and then catch him off guard.

...

hope you liked it! XD going to add the next chapter sometime next week ;P laterz!


	4. How to fool your opponent

Sherlock didn't have to wait long, as London was a center for criminal activity and the police needed his help far too often. Scotland Yard sent him case files home, so that he could look into them and solve the case for them as soon as possible.

Sherlock lay on the couch, deep in thoughts, but they were not about the case. He had solved it almost instantly, it had been an far too easy, boring case. Sherlock thought about his next move. Should he just wait, until John would get the sweets on his own? Should he put on an act, so that he wouldn't have to wait too long, until John would think that the case was difficult for Sherlock? No, he would wait, even if he wasn't the most patient person. It was highly probable that John would look through it if Sherlock put on an act. John did most of the time. Waiting would be the best solution. His hands moved up to his chin, resting on his chest. This was so boring. A small smile played on Sherlock's lips. The result would be worth it.

He almost didn't notice John entering the room and heading over to the kitchen, not bothering to greet Sherlock, as he was in his thinking position. His eyes darted to the smaller man, analyzing the bags he carried. John had bought milk, toast, eggs and some vegetable. No sweets. Sherlock frowned in confusion and got into a sitting position, still observing every move his doctor made. He knew that John had eaten all of them and was sure that he would buy some. John turned around and stopped in the doorway.

"Oh, hi. How's the case coming along?" John asked, surprised that Sherlock wasn't absorbed in thoughts and interlocked his hands behind his back.

"The case is rather intriguing" Sherlock lied instantly, trying his best to remain a blank expression. Hopefully, John wouldn't see trough it.

"Since you are still working on the case, I presume you don't want to have dinner later" John stated and made walked up to his room, without waiting for an answer.

How could he have missed that? John was still wearing his coat! Normally, he would hang it up right after coming inside, but today he still wore it when he went up to his room. His clever doctor. It was a nice try to fool Sherlock he had given up their little game. Of course the candy had been in the coat pocket! Otherwise there would be no reason at all for John not to hang it up. Sherlock chuckled slightly and picked up his previous, lying position. It was just a matter of time until it would finally be his turn to mess with his flat mate.

John went up the stairs and shed of his coat after he went inside his small room. He took out the package of strawberry candies he had bought. John knew that Sherlock would have figured it out by now. After he went into the kitchen, he had noticed the stare of the consulting detective right away. Sherlock had been analyzing the shopping bag. How badly he had wanted to see the look on Sherlock's face! A small giggle erupted his throat and he quickly put a hand in front of his mouth. John had faked surprise, when he had turned and Sherlock hadn't been in his usual, lying position. Acting had to be the only thing he was better at than Sherlock.

John knew that Sherlock had taken on the game, as he hadn't commented on his constantly sucking on candies when there was a case. He wouldn't admit it, but he was quite happy that Sherlock was willing to play this game with him. That he found it worth playing.

After going back downstairs, he told Sherlock that he would go out to grab something to eat.

"Hmmm…" was the only response he received. Maybe the case was more difficult than he had first assumed.

It was already early evening when John returned home. Sherlock was still laying on the couch and it seemed, as if he hadn't moved at all this entire time.

"Tea?" he offered, already on his way to the kitchen.

"That would be great, thanks" John turned around, not sure if he heard right. Had Sherlock actually thanked him right now? It must be one bloody amazing case, to bring Sherlock to thank him for tea.

Sherlock gazed at John, not sure himself, as to why he had said thanks. It was probably not only because of the tea, but also because John was the only one who put up with him and his moods. Yeah, that was it. Sherlock broke his gaze from Johns and grabbed a case file. He flipped through the pages, one after another. This was so boring, but he had to keep up the act and pretend that the case wasn't solved. His thoughts were interrupted by John placing a cup in front of Sherlock on the table. Sherlock looked up and watched John settling down on the armchair, grabbing the laptop and starting to write for his blog.

The tea had gone cold by the time John finally pulled out one candy. Sherlock heard him opening its wrapping and had to mentally slap himself to continue looking at the boring file instead of the candy and the mouth it disappeared in. Sherlock had to wait a bit longer, but he couldn't sit still anymore.

John didn't notice Sherlock twitching on the couch. All his focus rested on writing and more importantly typing this bloody blog entry. His tongue flickered out in concentration and he furrowed his brows slightly. His tea had turned cold by now, he had completely forgotten about it. There was movement at the side of his vision, but he chose to ignore it. Suddenly a hand cupped his left cheek and he turned his head slightly, startled. Sherlock's face was right in front of his and the gaze of gray eyes rested on his lips, before meeting his own. Lips crashed down on his and he almost let go of his laptop. A tingling sensation crept over his whole body and John could feel his cheeks heating up. Sherlock's tongue flickered over his mouth and he opened it, allowing it to explore it. Sherlock brought up his other hand to tug gently at the back of John's short hair, making him tilt his head. John suppressed a moan that threatened to escape him, as Sherlock deepened their kiss. Their tongues began to battle for dominance when John started to kiss back fiercely and Sherlock made a small needy sound at the back of his throat. One of John's hands darted up to the back of Sherlocks head and clamping itself in the dark curls. His heart raced as if it wanted to jump out of his chest at any time now and he felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen. Sherlock's tongue roamed around in his mouth, playing with the small piece of strawberry candy. Slowly dragging it out of his mouth and John couldn't suppress the moan this time, his hand clutching Sherlock's hair for dear life. John was quite relieved that he still had the laptop on his lap. Sherlock pulled back, sucking on the candy in satisfaction. They were both panting and John stared at the mouth, swollen and red from the kissing, were his candy had disappeared. A wide grin spread across John's heated face.

"I won!" he exclaimed joyful, between ragged breaths. Sherlock smiled his smug smile.

"No, you didn't. I'm not on a case. I solved it this morning, so I can eat. This strawberry candy tastes rather good" the smile disappeared from John's face and his eyes widened. That bastard had tricked him! John wouldn't just take that without payback.

"In that case I want it back. Now" Sherlock stopped to suck the candy and stared at John in surprise. That's not the reaction he had expected. His good doctor never failed to surprise him. Sherlock didn't have time to react because John's hand moved from his dark curls to the collar of his shirt and pulled him down, smacking their lips together and sliding his tongue in Sherlock's mouth to retrieve the candy.


	5. Let's call it a tie

Sherlock gasped in surprise at John's unexpected reaction. The consulting detective knew that John had liked, no had found the kiss arousing. Not only because of the delicious noises he had made, but also because of his dilated pupils. John slid his tongue over Sherlock's teeth, trying to get the candy back. Sherlock moved his hand from John's cheek to his shoulder in order to steady himself, his knees threatening to give out under him. His heart raced at a rapid speed and he couldn't think clearly anymore, partly because of the lack of oxygen and partly because of his proximity to John.

The other mans tongue skimmed over his and Sherlock gasped, opening his mouth further. John pulled away slowly, leaving Sherlock panting and gasping for breath. A satisfied smirk appeared on Johns wet lips. Sherlock hadn't noticed in the passion of their kiss, that his doctor had taken his candy back.

"Let's call it a tie" Sherlock nodded weakly before he could stop himself, remembering how all this had started and tried to get his composure back. He cleared his throat, not trusting his voice yet, before he answered.

"Although I'd say that I clearly fooled you there"

"But that was not the bet, was it?" John said, still smirking in triumph that he managed to break down Sherlocks always confident attitude.

"Well, I have to go to Scotland Yard, before they arrest the wrong guy" Sherlock rushed out of the door, cheeks still heated. John would get his payback soon enough he decided, a smile tingling on his face. Even so he had to admit that he was quite pleased with the outcome of his move.

John stayed in his armchair, as realization slowly dawned to him. His face flushed in an even deeper deep red. Sherlock bloody Holmes had just kissed him. Again. He didn't know if he should be happy or if this was still a game to the consulting detective or something more than that. To him it definitely was more and he would give anything to kiss Sherlock again.

His heart didn't seem to slow down, beating ever so fast in his chest. John knew that he had fallen badly for his flat mate and that scared him more than the flying bullets in Afghanistan did. He didn't know what to do if Sherlock would reject him. John sat there a little while longer, until he finally decided to get up and get a nice hot cuppa. It wouldn't solve anything if he just sat there and worried.


	6. Planning your next step

The dark haired detective took a cab and told the driver to let him out in front of Scotland Yard. The traffic was not so terrific and they only moved forward slowly. Sherlock didn't mind, as he was in no hurry to get there. Right now he had to process his problem. It wasn't so much a problem, but more like a puzzle which he didn't know the correct solution to. Sherlock couldn't rely on his brain and his body had betrayed him. He looked out of the window, not really seeing the city pass by him. His train of thoughts always came back to the feeling of kissing John, his warm lips and ragged breath, his dilated pupils. Of course Sherlock had noticed all of this, even though his brain hadn't worked perfectly and hadn't been as fast as usual. He knew that John had liked the kiss and that he was attracted to Sherlock. Quite certainly did he want to kiss Sherlock again and for the consulting detective it wasn't any different. But he didn't know what to do from here on, never having felt anything similar to that before in his life. Working on an especially difficult case was the only comparison he could think of, but it was a different feeling. It was a pleasing one, but nothing like the nice feeling that came from being near John, from touching and kissing him.

Sherlock shook his head slightly, trying to focus and get his mind away from his doctor, but his thoughts seemed to swirl around until they came back to John. Was he able to take the next step without hurting John? Sherlock had no clue about relationships apart from how they theoretically worked. Did John even want a relationship with him? Relationships needed feelings. Sherlock frowned in concern, worry nagging at the back of his mind. What if John didn't have any feelings for him that went over the ones of a friend-who just happened to be badly attracted to his sociopathic flat mate- and be repelled from the offer of something more? Sherlock didn't want to lose his only friend, the only person who could put up with him and his moods. He trusted his deduction. John was definitely sexually attracted to him, but he couldn't be sure if there was more to it. If feelings were involved.

As for Sherlock, he definitely had more than just friendly feelings for John. Whenever John had flirted with a woman, Sherlock would feel sting of jealousy rush through him. At the beginning he didn't know what it was, but now it was quite clear to him and Sherlock also realized that he had always tried to keep John as close as possible to him. Ruining his dates deliberately to prevent John to be snatched away from him by some woman and behave as nasty as possible towards them without letting it seem to intentional. It had taken Sherlock quite some time to deduce his behavior, but now that he successfully did, he could no longer ignore the fact that he had feelings for John.

The game they played had been delightful and Sherlock had enjoyed it all along, the thrills it gave him, but now he wanted more. He didn't want it to be just a game anymore. But he had to plan his next step carefully, he couldn't allow even the smallest mistake. First he had to be confident if John would be willing to be more than just friends – who kissed each other occasionally – and wouldn't reject Sherlock. Easy. All he had to do was to wait and see if John wanted to continue their game.

Sherlock smiled confidently, he was absolutely positive that John did. His deduction just couldn't be wrong. No it couldn't. The smile that played around his lips faded away as fast as it had come. With his good doctor he could never be sure.

No, the signs had been unambiguous! He tried to convince himself, that it was only natural for him to feel a tiny bit insecure. It was normal to feel like that, he had no data from own experiences, but he knew from books that people felt like that before their love was confirmed by the other person. Sherlock wrinkled his nose irritated. Love, that word sounded still kind of weird to him. The only times he used it was regarding his work and never in connection to an actually living human being. But it had a nice tingle to it. Maybe he could get used to it when it involved John. He would enjoy the thrills of their game as long as it would last and when he had confirmed John's feelings he would get what he wants.

Looking out of the window again, Sherlock saw that they would still need some time until they would be at Scotland Yard. He tapped his fingers on his trouser impatiently and when they finally reached it, he hurriedly paid the driver and rushed out. Hopefully they'd have a new case for him, so that their game could continue where it left off. Sherlock practically sprinted up the stairs and barged into Lestrade's office.

"The nephew is the murderer. The scratch marks of the victim should still be visible on his back. They struggled and he threw her over the roof, but the victim tried to grab a hold of him and thus the scratches of his back. They had an affair. Check for his DNA in the back of his car. Is there a case for me?" Sherlock spoke swiftly, without taking a single breath in between.

Lestrade just raised an eyebrow to him, probably surprised by the fact that Sherlock had forgotten to insult the police in some way. He moved his feet from the desk and stood up.

"Good to see you too", Lestrade said sarcastically and grabbed the case file from his desk "No, there is no new case for you. How do you know- " Sherlock didn't let him finish the sentence, already turning around and rushing back downstairs, ignoring Anderson and the opportunity to annoy him. Why didn't they have a new case for him? What were all the criminals doing?

The same trick wouldn't work twice on John, that was for sure. Sherlock decided to walk back home, he was too agitated to sit still. The tone of his text alert sounded and Sherlock pulled it out from his pocked. His heart made a hard thud and Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks. It was from John.

_Get some milk_

_-JW _

A calculating grin appeared on his features. This was just the opportunity he needed. There was no need for a case now. This plan was even better. It was terrific!

There was a convenience store nearby and Sherlock went in and after he got milk he went straight to the shelves with the sweets. He looked through the different sorts until he found what he was looking for. Strawberry candy.


	7. The end of the game

The text message John had send Sherlock was an unspoken offer to end their game if Sherlock wanted to. The possibility of asking him in person had frightened John, so he had taken the cowardly solution of writing a text message. Then Sherlock could either decide to ignore it and don't buy milk or he could do so and buy nicotine patches as well. John was sure that Sherlock would figure out what he actually meant. It wouldn't mean for Sherlock to lose if he bought them, it was an offer of John that he would forfeit if Sherlock didn't want to continue their game anymore. John would rather forego kissing Sherlock than to endanger their friendship with his unnecessary feelings and lose his best friend in the progress. Maybe this was all still a game for Sherlock, but for him it was not. Sure, John wanted to continue it, but then he would want even more. He already did. And that was dangerous, because he was sure that Sherlock wasn't willing to offer him more than the pleasure and thrills the game provided. No feelings.

John sighed and made a glum face, but tried to get his composure back as soon as he heard Sherlock coming up the stairs. The door of their kitchen opened and a ting of fear shot through his body as the thud of Sherlock placing something on the counter sounded.

Sherlock had bought milk. And he had surely bought nicotine patches too. Otherwise he wouldn't have bought milk, would he?

All his hopes of Sherlock returning his feelings shattered and he closed his eyes in resignation. John should have known better than to hope for that. This was Sherlock bloody Holmes after all, the man who was married to his work. The man who loved nothing else besides solving crimes.

"I bought milk!" something sounded odd about Sherlock's voice. It almost sounded as if Sherlock was smiling. Was he relieved that their game had ended? John shook his head. He shouldn't make assumptions, they only depressed him more.

"Thanks" John answered and tried to sound as normal as possible, but his voice was quivering almost unnoticeable. He had to give up if he wanted to continue living with Sherlock. The consulting detective came into the living room, where John sat in his armchair. He didn't look up at Sherlock, fearing that he would see something on John's face he didn't want Sherlock to notice. It was the best decision to just look his feelings away. But that was easier said than done.

Sherlock moved straight to the couch and draped himself on it dramatically. No one said a thing, they both stayed silent. Eventually John stood up and went into the kitchen. His eyes widened and his heart made a surprised thud, before it started to race at a fast pace and a smile tingled around John's lips. Lying on the counter beside the milk were candies. John moved closer and looked at the packing. Strawberry flavor. The same sort he had during their kiss today. John's smile developed into a huge grin and he opened the packing. Sherlock hadn't bought nicotine patches, but candies.

Did that mean he could still hope? Because Sherlock must have understood what he had actually meant with the text message, must have noticed that John was worried that their friendship would suffer under it. There was still the possibility that he was wrong. Sherlock's voice sounded at the back of his mind 'You see, but you do not observe, John' Had he missed something again? Could he hope for more? Maybe he could.

Placing on candy in his mouth he returned to the living room, containing his happy feelings just for the case that he was mistaking Sherlock's intention.

Sherlock noticed that John's mood had lightened up, although John was trying to hide it. Also, John was sucking on a candy. The corner of his lip twitched as a warm and fuzzy feeling overcame him. This meant than John wasn't opposed to the idea of kissing Sherlock again. More than that, John wantedto kiss him again and Sherlock was far too happy to grant him that wish.

In a swift motion he stood up and went over to John, who hadn't sat down yet. His flat mate looked at him with a hopeful yet troubled expression, which he tried to suppress unsuccessfully. Sherlock smiled before he bent down crashed their lips together.

It felt so good and right. The feeling of John's lips on his. The doctor didn't hesitate to kiss back. Grabbing a fistful of Sherlock's hair, John bid down on his lower lip, drawing a small moan from the other man. They continued to just move their lips fiercely against each other, until Sherlock dragged John over to the couch and shoved him onto it, falling half on top of John, as he was still clutching the consulting detective's dark curls. Sherlock slid his tongue over John's mouth until he opened it far enough to let his tongue in. John tasted like strawberry. Sherlock grinned into their kiss, definitely his favorite flavor now. The candy was pushed against his tongue, making the flavor more intense and his breath hitch slightly. Already feeling kind of light headed and dizzy, Sherlock let John push the candy into his mouth and moved away a bit, his breathing laboured.

"Do- do you have a case?" John asked while trying to catch his breath. His cheeks and lips were reddened from their kiss and Sherlocks heart made a skip at this sigh.

"You're my case" Sherlock said quietly, almost only a whisper. John's eyes widened at this response, his features lighting up in blitheness as he pulled Sherlock down, pressing their mouths together for a vehement and passionate kiss.


	8. A distracting game Extra One

It couldn't be this difficult. All the clues were lying right in front of him! And by the look of it, it was obvious that this was the work of an amateur. John finished walking around the body and stopped by his side. What did he miss? Sherlock pondered while bending down to get a closer look of the dead body lying in front of him. John moved closer, only a little space left between them. It was a woman, dark hair, in her late thirties. John's hand grazed his. She had been strangled with a tie and then dumped into the Thames. John pulled out a candy, rustling with the packing of it before shoving the sweet into his mouth. Probably murdered last night and then washed up this morning. It smelled like-

"Sherlock, what have you got for us?" Lestrade walked up to him from behind, expecting the hear something brilliant from the consulting detective and wondering why Sherlock hadn't already bragged with his findings.

"Shut up and leave me alone! I need to concentrate and you are distracting me!" Sherlock snapped and darted around to face the detective inspector. It was a pathetic lie, because Lestrade wasn't disturbing him at all. Sherlock just needed to properly concentrate. John bit down on the candy in his mouth, making a loud crunching noise.

Easier said than done with the cause of his distracted and slightly confused mind right beside him. Sherlock wasn't used to his mind wandering off and ignoring his command to move its focus back on a case. He glared at John, trying to look as furious as possible, but the smirk that appeared on John's lips told him that he couldn't fool his good doctor so easily. His body craved to feel John, a part his brain agreeing eagerly, but Sherlock tried to ignore its wishes as usual. Only that this time he wasn't successful with it. Sherlock couldn't let his work get affected by his needs! Both his mind and body were betraying him that was just inexcusable. He was supposed to stand above these things.

"Trouble concentrating, Sherlock?" John asked him in mock concern with a devious look on his face, his tongue darting out and moving over his lower lip in a swift motion. That bloody habit of his! It wasn't helping the consulting detective to focus on the case in any way. Sherlock knitted his brows in suspicion. No, John had done it on purpose. That was enough of that distracting game John played on him, Sherlock decided, a thrilling kind of anticipation rising in his chest. There was only as much he could take and that had done it.

"You won't mind helping me to get my brain to work properly again, won't you? I think I need some sugar" Sherlock stated as calmly as he could, but not quite managing to suppress the liltingly sound of his voice. Before John had a chance to express his surprise, Sherlock had already bend towards his doctor and crashed their lips together, one hand pressed against the doctor's neck. John obviously hadn't expected for Sherlock to react like this in front of whole Scotland Yard, Sherlock noticed and smiled into their rough kiss. He parted John's lips with his tongue, invading his mouth and obtaining the candy before John had even the slightest chance to react and a quiet moan escaped his mouth before he could stop it.

Sherlock pulled back with a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His brain was reminding him of the tingling sensation of John's mouth, but at least he could concentrate of the case now. He bit down on the candy, imitating John's previous action. Said doctor just stood there, mouth still parted ever so slightly and his eyes darted over to a shocked Lestrade. Anderson choked on something in the background and started to cough violently.

The consulting detective turned around to the body, quickly analyzing every detail again and snorted as everything fell into place. Too easy. Some sugar now and then was definitely good for his brain.

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	9. Anticipating the retaliation Extra Two

After what had happened at the crime scene, John was mad at Sherlock and wouldn't stop ranting about it the whole cab ride home. The cabbie had glanced back through the mirror a few times, obviously feeling uneasy with them almost yelling at each other, but John hadn't really cared. They had kissed in public and now everyone was certain that John was gay. At least they had only assumed so before that particular scene Scotland Yard had the pleasure to live by.

Well, John obviously was not gay. The only thing he was, was insane. That was the only explanation for him falling in love with a high functioning sociopath. He had to be completely and utterly out of his mind to have let something like that happen.

John leaned back in his favorite armchair and sighed. It was no use to cry over spilled milk. Best to just drink a nice cuppa and simply accept it. He checked the time. Still half an hour left until he was going to meet with Sherlock. The consulting detective had invited him to dinner. He had a bad feeling about his, probably because of their heated discussion after the crime scene incident. John recalled it, licking over his lips nervously.

Somewhere along the lines of,

"_This_ was not appropriate, Sherlock! Everyone saw it and more importantly, it was a crime scene for god's sake!" and Sherlock's snarky remark that,

"Well, maybe this wouldn't have happened if you hadn't started to tease me in the first place! If anyone is at fault here, it's you. You started it!" it somehow came down to John digging his own grave with,

"Of course I thought you would be able to ignore it. I mean, how could you get that distracted and unreasonable by my actions?" it still had all been fine but then Sherlock had smirked and from there on all had gone awry.

"So, you want to tell me that you would be unaffected and able to think completely straight?" (pun intended) No, of course he wouldn't be able to. No. That was just-

"Yes, of course." No, no, no.

"Very well, let's see that then, shall we?" This would end badly. John swallowed nervously as he remembered.

Why did he have to go and say that he would be able to resist Sherlock if he tried to seduce him? Because John had to be honest, that was exactly what he had tried to do at the crime scene. With success. A small victoriously smile spread across his lips before it was replaced by a worried frown. Actually, he had been sure that Sherlock would be able to resist, at least until they got home. After all this was Sherlock bloody Holmes he was talking about. Still, John couldn't help but to feel proud about the fact that he could distract Sherlock like that. That didn't make him less fazed, he was still brooding over Sherlock's invitation to dinner.

What was Sherlock planning for his revenge? John could only hope that he wouldn't embarrass himself completely. Who was he kidding? Of course this would end most embarrassingly for him.

He looked at the time again and got up just as the doorbell rang. Probably a new client for Sherlock. He reached out to grab his jacket, but decided against it as he looked down at himself. John was wearing a suit and he couldn't say that he was comfortable with it. It was dark blue, pinstriped one with a white shirt beneath it and a plain gray tie. Sherlock had told him to wear one, so John guessed that they would eat in a rather fancy restaurant. Not reassuring at all.

"John, your car is here!" Mrs. Hudson called when John was already half down the stairs.

"I didn't order a car" he stated confused as he reached the front door.

"No, Sir. But I was told to drive you to the restaurant" the chauffeur said and opened a door for John to step in.

"Okay" this had to be one bloody expensive restaurant if he had to be driven there. John tried to calm down during the ride and when the car stopped and his door was opened, the good doctor actually thought that he would maybe be able to survive this evening.

This thought was annihilated when John headed to their table and saw just who was sitting there. Sherlock. And right beside him sat Mycroft. John gulped.

He was so screwed.


	10. Revenge is a dish best served overdinner

The two brothers sat at a square table, facing John's way and waiting for him to resume walking. Sherlock raised a questioning eyebrow, knowing perfectly well why John had stopped dead in his track. It couldn't mean any good for him when Sherlock invited Mycroft to dinner. Of his own volition. No, that definitely didn't mean any good. And dear good! Sherlock wore his purple shirt and was it John's imagination or did it seem even tighter than usual? The buttons looked as if they would give up their purpose any moment now. Barely holding it together, threatening to rip open with every breath Sherlock took.

Kissing Sherlock in public over dinner wouldn't be overly embarrassing for John. No one would know him. Sherlock must have known this and that's why invited Mycroft as well. The consulting detective knew that John would try his hardest in front of the older Holmes to remain a poker face while Sherlock would try to break this barrier and make John lose control. Just as Sherlock did over his case and his mind.

Now was definitely not the right time nor the right place to stand and gawk dumbstruck at now smirking consulting detective. John started to move and took his seat opposite of Sherlock.

"Hello, Mycroft" John smiled and tried not to let his eyes roam over Sherlock's tight shirt and his partly visible, white chest that showed through the stretched "What a surprise to see you here! I didn't know that Sherlock invited you"

"Good evening, John" Mycroft replied politely and looked over at his brother "Actually it was me who invited Sherlock to have dinner with me last week, but he declined" Mycroft made a face at the last part and Sherlock rolled his eyes. "So, imagine my surprise when Sherlock called me today and told me that he would be willed to have dinner with me under the condition that you join as well" He should have noticed when the car came to get him. It had obviously been one of Mycroft's cars. John could practically hear Sherlock saying 'You see, John but you do not observe'.

After exchanging a few more courtesies with Mycroft the waiter came over with red wine, Mycroft had ordered and the menu. It was in French. He would just order the same as the consulting detective as he didn't understand anything except spaghetti. John glanced over to Sherlock and regretted it immediately. He had raised the glass to his mouth with wine and the sleeve of his shirt was rode up, revealing his pale wrist. There was a droplet of the red liquid on his lips which he absentmindedly licked off and traced the outlines of them with his tongue, wetting them in the process. All the while staring straight at John, but the good doctor didn't return his gaze. John's eyes were glued to those full, pink lips. He wanted to bend forward and press his mouth onto them so badly. Mycroft cleared his throat. John's head snapped around to look at the other who examined him with a raised brow and an amused smile around his lips.

"I was asking if you have problems with the menu. Your file said that you can't speak French" Sherlock chuckled silently and that was probably the most frightening thing John had seen in a while. The two bothers actually being on the same wave length and not throwing snippy remarks at each other. Or Sherlock trying his hardest to irritate his brother for that matter.

"No, I'm just fine with the menu, thank you very much and I'll take the spaghetti" John replied as politely as he managed, narrowing his eyes slightly. It kind of seemed as if Mycroft had done it on purpose. No, not only kind of. It absolutely seemed so. Mycroft could have just ordered something right away, just like he did with the wine. That would fit his character. Instead he waited for the menu, knowing perfectly that John didn't understand anything on this bloody card.

Was it possible that the two of them were in this together? It was a matter of course that Mycroft knew that they weren't mere flat mates or friends anymore. After all he was the British government. The more important question was, did he know about Sherlock's plan to take revenge on him for disturbing his work purposefully? Who was he kidding here? Of course Mycroft knew that as well! The next question John had to ask himself was if he wanted to let Sherlock make him squirm the rest of the evening until John wouldn't be able to take it anymore. That was more than just quite possible. Or if he could bury his pride and just let Sherlock have his victory and surrender to his sodding seduction skills right here and now, because Sherlock had returned to look at him with that intense stare of his grayish eyes. It looked like a starving man seeing his favorite food and if they weren't a couple, this look could very well be regarded as sexual harassment. John could feel a faint blush creeping up his neck and prayed that it wouldn't reach his face.

In a desperate attempt to distract himself from the hungry looks Sherlock was giving him he began to study the prices. They were shockingly high! This whole dinner would cost more than John's monthly salary was. He could still feel Sherlocks intense stare and swallowed, his face heating up even more.

"Are you feeling unwell, John? Your face is red" Mycroft said in a caring voice that sounded convincingly real if it wasn't for the knowing undertone.

"No, it's just a tad too warm in here" John straightened himself. He wouldn't throw his pride away and admit defeat in front of Sherlock's brother. No, absolutely not.

After the waiter had brought their dishes, John tried his hardest to not pay any attention to Sherlock. Don't look at him. Don't look at him. John told himself over and over again like a mantra. Sherlock's gaze never left his face, but he didn't to look up. He could do this. It was just desert left after that. He could do this. Just don't look at him.

Suddenly Sherlock's foot grazed over his thigh and John jumped and took a sharp intake of breath, but miraculously managed to keep his eyes on the plate. Sherlock moved his foot higher and higher up John's tight until it was dangerously near his crotch and then downward again just to repeat the same agonizing motion again and again. Damn his foot!

John didn't dare to move, fearing where Sherlock's foot might end up staying for the rest of the dinner if he would. One problem was enough. He couldn't have something else standing up for the rest of the evening too.

The two brothers chatted over old cases, completely keeping him out of their conversation and for that John was more than glad as he wasn't even trying to pay attention. John wasn't sure how long he would be able to restrain himself, before he would lose it. Maybe he would choke on his noodles first. It was an incredible hard task to twist them around his fork, aim for his mouth and then chew. Kind of a waste that he didn't get to taste them properly. His mouth had gone dry and his breathing was slowly but surely getting more and more irregular.

Mycroft was the first to empty his plate and told the waiter to prepare their dessert. Vanilla ice cream cake with strawberries. When the waiter arrived with the cake, Sherlock withdrew his foot from John's thigh as quickly as he had placed it there and John made the same mistake again. He looked at Sherlock. Their gazes locked and he was immediately captivated by those eyes. John swallowed hard as Sherlock took a bite of the dessert, smearing a bit of the white cream on his lips in the process and then licked it off. Taking another bite. Smearing some of the cream on his lips. Licking it off. Taking another bite. And then John snapped. He couldn't take it anymore. He deserved a bloody medal for having endured this so long! John almost leaped up from his chair and grabbed Sherlock's collar, pulling the consulting detective towards him before he bend down and licked the damn cream off those smirking lips.

...

THE END [for real this time]

you know when you have an idea and want to use it really badly in a story but then you're stuck after you put it in your story and you have come up with something else so you can continue but then your brain is all NO, I WON'T COME UP WITH ANYTHING ELSE. HMPF!

so you see, it's totally not my fault that I the last extra is so late ;P I'm not satisfied with it but it only got worse as I tried to make it better Q_Q

ANYWAY please enjoy!

off to start colledcting ideas for the fanfic I promised InsideYourDreams24

Laterz!


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